Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

As time passed, Don and Samantha continued to watch the show, their cozy atmosphere lingering well into the night.

The crime drama played on, drawing Samantha deeper into its plot twists and suspseful sces. Occasionally, she would react with a gasp or a commt, her atttion mostly glued to the scre.

Don, on the other hand, kept his focus split betwe the show and his own thoughts, contemplating the night's evts and his progress with Samantha.

At some point, the food they had ordered arrived, and they ate together, still in relative silce, except for the momts wh Samantha couldn't resist commting on the show. The food provided a brief respite from the drama unfolding on the TV, but soon ough, they were back to watching, with Samantha getting more and more absorbed as the episodes wt by.

Evtually, the final episode for the day came to an d, and the channel switched to its late-night programming. Samantha let out a disappointed "Aww," before adding in a slurred voice, "It was just getting good." Her words were slightly drawn out, the telltale sign of tipsiness.

Don glanced at the wine bottle on the table and noticed it was nearly empty. 'She really wt crazy with the wine,' he thought, mildly surprised that he hadn't noticed how much she had be drinking. His own glass was barely touched, as he had no inttion of getting intoxicated.

Samantha yawned, stretching her arms and th letting them fall limply to her sides. "So sleepy," she mumbled, leaning heavily on Don. She attempted to push herself up but failed, giggling at her clumsiness. "Oh, silly me," she laughed, her voice warm but clearly a little out of control.

Don looked at her with a mix of amusemt and concern. "Uh, I think you had a little too much to drink," he said, trying to gauge just how tipsy she was.

Samantha looked up at him, her eyes half-lidded, and pouted. "That's not true," she insisted in a slurred tone. Th, with a giggle, she added, "You look funny to me without my glasses."

Don glanced at the couch and noticed her glasses lying beside her. He picked them up, thinking to himself, 'If I want more nights like this to occur, the experice has to be memorable—but in a good way.' He didn't want her to wake up with a headache, brok glasses, and regrets. She needed to feel comfortable and safe ough to let her guard down again in the future.

"Here," he said softly, holding out her glasses.

Instead of taking them, Samantha pulled him into an embrace, wrapping her arms a him tightly. "Aww, you want a hug," she murmured, her voice filled with affection.

Don found his head pressed against her soft, bouncy chest, her warmth veloping him. Ev through the fabric of her turtleck, he could feel the softness of her breasts, and the ssation st a shiver down his spine.

"Mmm, you're so warm," she murmured conttedly, snuggling closer. Don's thoughts were messy as he tried to maintain control of the situation. 'She's not making this easy,' he thought, feeling the heat rise to his face. But he knew he had to keep things from escalating.

Reluctantly, Don pulled away, gtly making her sit up. "Let's get you to your room," he suggested, trying to keep his voice steady.

Samantha pouted again but didn't resist as he stood up. "Okay, but I can't walk," she said, her tone playful yet sluggish.

Don turned a and knelt in front of her. "Climb on my back," he instructed. Samantha let out a soft laugh. "I can't do that—I'm your mom, silly," she giggled, her arms draping over his shoulders.

"It's the only way I can help you upstairs unless you want to sleep down here," Don reasoned, keeping his tone light.

She hummed in agreemt and, with a bit of effort, climbed onto his back.

Don lifted her up and began the slow trek up the stairs, careful not to stumble. 'This would be a bad time to trip,' he thought, his muscles tsing with each step. Samantha's giggles echoed in his ear, and her breath was warm against his neck.

Wh they finally reached her room, Don carefully lowered her onto the bed. She landed with a soft bounce, giggling as she did. "Donnie, not so rough," she teased, her voice playful and lighthearted. Don sighed inwardly, hoping she wouldn't remember too much of this night.

"You should get ready for bed," Don advised, stepping back. "I'll bring you a glass of water."

Samantha gave him a drowsy smile and nodded. "Aww, you're so sweet. I'm lucky to have such a caring son," she said in a slurred manner.

Don left the room but didn't take much time grabbing the glass of water and soon returned.

As he approached the door to her room though, he could hear her fumbling a inside, her movemts clumsy and uncoordinated. 'What's she doing now?' he wondered, pushing the door op cautiously. He was surprised to find her tangled in her turtleck, her arms flailing slightly as she struggled to pull it over her head.

"Donnie, help," Samantha called out, her voice muffled by the fabric. "I can't get my head out of this stupid thing."

Don sighed, stepping closer to assist her. "Alright, hold still," he said, gtly taking hold of the turtleck and carefully guiding it off her head. Samantha's hair was slightly tousled from the struggle, and she looked at him with a mix of gratitude and embarrassmt. "Thanks," she mumbled as she tried to fumble with her pants next, but her coordination was clearly impaired by the wine.

Seeing her struggle, Don took over, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down her legs, leaving her in just her panties. She didn't seem fazed at all having her large bountiful breasts out in the op for him, instead stumbling over to the bed and flopping down onto it. "Thank you," she said again, her voice slurring more as she reached for the glass of water on the nightstand.

She took a small sip before placing the glass back down and sighing conttedly. "I had fun today," she mumbled, her eyes fluttering closed. "Thank you, Donnie…"

Don smiled slightly, watching as she drifted off to sleep mid-stce. 'Well, I guess that's that,' he thought, pulling the covers over her. He stood there for a momt before quietly leaving the room.

As he stepped into the hallway, his sharp ears picked up the sound of something metallic dropping from downstairs. He frowned, his sses immediately on high alert. 'What was that?' he wondered, narrowing his eyes and moving cautiously toward the stairs.

Don moved siltly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the carpeted stairs. As he approached the kitch, he could hear more shuffling noises and what sounded like the fridge door oping and closing. 'An intruder?' he thought, his muscles tsing as he reached for the light switch.

With a quick flick, the kitch flooded with light, and Don immediately relaxed. Standing in front of the op fridge was Summer, caught red-handed with a mouthful of food. Her eyes wided in surprise and embarrassmt as she quickly shut the fridge door and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice a mix of annoyance and defsivess. "Why are you sneaking a the kitch at this time?"

Don narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms. "First of all, it's only a little past ," he pointed out. "And second of all, you're the one stuffing your face in the dark."

Summer's face turned a shade redder as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look defiant. "I was hungry, okay?" she snapped, though her tone lacked conviction. "And it's your fault I'm eating so late!"

"My fault?" Don raised an eyebrow, guinely curious. "How is it my fault?"

"Just…because!" she huffed, clearly grasping at straws.

It was only th that Don noticed she was wearing nothing but a slightly loose shirt and tight panties, her tanned legs bare and her posture defsive. He couldn't help but think 'Nice,' but he quickly forced his gaze back to her face, not wanting to make things awkward.

"What are you ev doing here?" Summer asked, trying to shift the focus away from herself.

"I came to get a glass of water," Don replied. "Didn't expect to find someone raiding the fridge."

"I wasn't raiding it!" Summer protested, her voice rising in pitch. "I was just…getting a snack." She crossed her arms again and huffed, trying to look nonchalant. "I'm stress eating because of a scary movie I was watching."

"A scary movie?" Don repeated, amused. "Must be one hell of a movie to make you come raid the fridge in the dark."

Summer's eyes narrowed at his teasing tone. "It's a series of super scary movies," she corrected him, her voice firm. "If you watched them, you wouldn't ev be able to sleep."

Don couldn't help but smile at her bravado. "Wanna bet?" he challged, his tone light but confidt.

Summer glared at him, her cheeks flushing slightly. "You're on," she shot back, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "But don't cry to me wh you're too scared to sleep."

Don chuckled, finding her attempt to sound tough dearing. "We'll see about that," he said, stepping closer to her. "How about we watch it together? I could use a good laugh."

Summer hesitated for a momt, clearly conflicted betwe wanting to prove him wrong and not wanting to admit she was actually scared. Finally, she nodded. "Fine," she agreed, though her tone was less confidt than before. "But you better not chick out until we finish the whole series of movies."

"Wouldn't dream of it.," Don replied.

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